


Living in italics (after the Undertaking)

by Jules_Ink



Series: the Vegas!verse [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: After my Undertaking, F/M, Interlude, One Shot, Vegas!AU, Vegas!Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 10:18:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4825217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules_Ink/pseuds/Jules_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the dusts settles, all that’s left to do is dig your way to the people you love. (Part of the Vegas!verse. Interlude accompanying What happened in Vegas.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living in italics (after the Undertaking)

**Author's Note:**

> The amazingly caps-y comments I received after posting the Undertaking-chapter of the main Vegas-fic made me want to post this interlude, too. [That and **Albiona** ’s (gently formulated) demand that I post it and that I post it before the final chapter of Vegas. Because we both know she's the one with the common sense.] I hope this isn’t too much. This one-shot contains some of my Vegas-headcanon and I just had to get it out of my system and write it down. I hope you enjoy it despite everything. Love, Jules.
> 
>  
> 
> _[I do not own Arrow, I don't mean any copyright infringement. This work is only meant to be posted on free fanfiction sides plus my Tumblr. If you find it at any E-book side that charges you for it, please let me know. Thank you.]_

**May 6 th, 2013**  
  
Yongtak Chan has always been different.  
  
He was different before being different was the thing to be. Like, Bill Gates before he became _Bill Gates_.  
  
He was different in a small town in Utah, raised by two overly protective, conservative parents, the only son, the sandwich-child, born in the midst of four daughters. Being a math-liking, bowtie-wearing, quick-thinking kid in the first row of every class, his parents had been so proud. His classmates had made his life a living hell, but his parents never saw the bruises or the missing shoe or the wet backpack. Mr. and Mrs. Chan only saw the good grades, the scholarship for Yale on the horizon, the good job he’d get, making him a worthy heir to carry and pass on the Chan-name.  
  
The day Yongtak Chan told his parents he’d decided to accept the M.I.T. scholarship and not wait for Yale’s answer was the day their relationship had first cracked.  
  
It had completely shattered two years later when he had told them he was gay.  
  
That day, things had been said—stupid things, hurtful things, things that were impossible to take back. His parents had said most of them, but Yongtak hadn’t been quiet either. Years of swallowed hurt and pain had been unleashed in thirty painful minutes and, looking back to it, he was lucky that three out of his four sisters were still talking to him.  
  
Yongtak Chan had always been different and he had felt it, felt his difference like it was a disease because his heart started beating faster when Marc Kentwood walked past him in the hall (he played the clarinet like nobody else and he wore the hell out of the marching band’s uniform). He felt the difference, because he understood the new math concepts before his teacher even started explaining, because he enjoyed taking apart his parents TV more than watching it.  
  
The day Yongtak Chan met Felicity Smoak was the day he forgot about being different.  
  
He had simply started to _be_. Because Felicity Smoak—with her horn-rimmed glasses, the mousy brown hair, the sensible flats, and the blouse with little Flamingos on them—shared his passion. Felicity and Yongtak spoke the same language (even if she spoke much more, much quicker, and didn’t filter her words).  
  
Meeting her was a turning point and spending his first M.I.T. spring break in Las Vegas made it impossible to go back. Donna Smoak in her way too tight, way too short, way too bright pink dress had looked at him and seen right through him. That night Yongtak drank his first cocktail (from a huge glass that had looked like the Eiffel Tower—that had been doomed right from the start), he danced on the speakers next to the DJ-stand, he kissed a guy name Laurence, and he bought bright blue pants.  
  
After that Yongtak Chan had been _Yongtak Chan_. A guy worthy to be thought of in italics.  
  
Their friendship had dissolved while Felicity dated the dick-ward Cooper Seldon. But then Felicity Smoak became Felicity Queen—with blonde hair, pretty clothes, and a missing smile. Felicity Smoak had always accepted him, had always seen him for what he was and could be, had helped him find his way—and that was why Yongtak went to Felicity Queen. He didn’t believe a single one of all the horrible things they said about her.  
  
_Felicity Queen_ (whose name should always been written in italics due to constant awesomeness) was Yongtak Chan’s best female friend.  
  
And she was trapped inside the collapsed building that had once been the Robert Queen Memorial.  
  
Tak’s fingers hurt, his back, and his shoulders, too, but he couldn’t stop digging, couldn’t stop lifting heavy pieces of concrete to clear a way. He had to get to Felicity. There wasn’t any way around the building sandwiched between two others. He’d have to jump off an adjoining rooftop to even maybe make it inside the clinic. Parkouring wasn’t anything Tak had ever tried. Plus, he didn’t even dare entering either of the two buildings visibly damaged by the earthquake Felicity and Tak had failed to prevent. Deep cracks ran through the buildings’ facades, the one of the left was even tipped, half sunk in the hole that’d opened beneath it. Clearing the way through the front was the only way Yongtak could see to get to Felicity.  
  
They’d been at it for thirty minutes. He, unnamed others—and Roy. The kid with the amazing bone-structure (seriously those cheekbones and that jaw combined should be illegal) had been with him when Felicity dropped her tablet and started running. They had stared after her, equally dumbfounded, dread collecting within Yongtak. It took a lot for Felicity to carelessly let go of electronic hardware like that. The display of the tablet had been cracked but still operational. Looking at the map and remembering Felicity’s breathed “three,” everything had clicked into place. A curse fled from Tak’s lips and in that moment Roy proved to be more than a pretty face by asking, “Where do you think the third device is?”  
  
They couldn’t have reached the RQM more than one minute after Felicity, two minutes tops. But that time made all the difference.  
  
Yongtak would never forget that earthquake, the shaking under his feet making him lose control over his body. Like a ragdoll, he had been thrown to the ground, landing hard and painful on his hip. A rumbling had filled the air mixing with cries and shouts, with the drumming of buildings collapsing and of gas lines exploding.  
  
Strong hands had grabbed him, ripped him up from the ground shaking under his feet, sending tremors through his body. Yongtak let himself be pulled away, stumbling on shaky legs while white dust swallowed him whole like dry ice blown onto a dance floor by an overly enthusiastic DJ. Tak completely lost all sense of where he was, even up and down. All he heard was the deafening, terrifying cacophony. Panic swelled up in him and made him cling to the hand and crash into the person pulling him along as he stopped in the dusty mist, because there was just no way of knowing where to go.  
  
The hand belonged to Roy.  
  
When the dust settled, Yongtak finally understood what had happened: the boy had pulled Tak away before the debris of the RQM could land on top of them. Relief and thankfulness flooded Yongtak—only for dread and horror to take over.  
  
The RQM had collapsed.  
  
Felicity was in there.  
  
And probably Tina.  
  
His clothes covered in dirt and dust, the left lens of his glasses cracked, his hip hurting, Yongtak had run back toward the ruined clinic as fast as he could and called for his friends. Not receiving an answer, he’d started digging and shifting whatever he could move, frantic. Roy had joined in instantly.  
  
They were making progress, but it was taking too long. Yongtak’s muscles started burning—as did his eyes from the dust still coating the air. And, he was biting back tears.  
  
Determination was turning into desperation with each passing minute. Still, Yongtak forced himself to, to keep digging. He had to get to his friend, to his best female friend who had made him see that it was okay to be as different as he wanted to be.  
  
“Tak,” Roy said, drawing the other man’s attention to a bigger piece of concrete. “Help me with this.”  
  
Making his way over the uneven ground covered with pieces of concrete and metal, and whatever else remained from the RQM, Yongtak tucked his hands underneath the huge block.  
  
“Use your legs,” Roy instructed and bent his knees.  
  
Tak followed his example and tried to stretch his legs again. Roy grunted. Straining his muscles, his eyes squeezed shut, Tak tried to gather every last bit of strength. A yell of anger and frustration (and defeated exhaustion) ripped from his lips, but it was no use. The stupid concrete block didn’t move one bit.  
  
Until it did.  
  
In surprise his eyes snapped open and landed on Oliver Queen and his muscles flexing under his black, dust covered Henley. Together, they managed to tip the block to the side. It slid away and crashed to the ground, huge chucks of concrete crumbling off and out of it.  
  
“Oliver,” Yongtak breathed, his nerves shaking his voice, “Felicity’s—” He swallowed, hating that he had to give the man such news. “She’s in there. Tina, too, probably.”  
  
“I know.” Oliver pressed the syllables between clenched teeth and that was the moment the men’s eyes met. Tak’s heart stopped for a second, his breath hitched in his throat, his nerves flared, the panic his exhaustion had dimmed returned full force. Because he knew. He _knew_. Right in that moment every suspicion he ever had was confirmed.  
  
He stepped to the husband of his best female friend, right into his personal space. He looked up at the taller man and whispered, “How bad is it?” Seeing confusion on Oliver’s face, Yongtak clarified, talking so low his voice was barely audible, “You know something. You were in there before, weren’t you?”  
  
“What?” Oliver faked confusion—badly. “Why would you say that?”  
  
“Because I saw the vigilante leave ten minutes ago,” Yongtak stated in the faintest whisper. “He swung himself up that,” he dimly motioned to the right, “building on some rope.” He met Oliver’s eyes. “And in your hurry, you forgot to clean up all of the stuff around your eyes.”  
  
“I—” Oliver’s hand flew up to his eyes. Lowering them again he found his fingertips greasy. Obviously unhappy with himself, he pressed his lips together.  
  
They didn’t have time for this, Tak decided. “Let me.” He brought his sleeve up without really thinking about it and wiped the last traces of whatever that black stuff was away. “Okay, now tell me: how bad is it?”  
  
Oliver swallowed. “It’s bad.”  
  
Yongtak’s heart hammered in his chest—at the same time he felt like everything was happening in slow motion. His voice nearly got locked in his throat. “Fel— Felicity?”  
  
“No,” Oliver whispered darkly. “Tina.”  
  
Tak gasped. No, not Kristina. _Kristina Miles,_ a woman living her life in italics every day. He stared at the other man (who looked so sorry, so defeated, so helpless despite all his well-defined muscles) and found that there was nothing to say. Tak turned around, back to the task at hand, because, “We need to get to them.”  
  
Roy stood a few steps away, watching them curiously. “Everything okay?” he asked.  
  
Oliver answered, his voice stronger, louder. “Why are you here and not at our apartment?”  
  
“Sorry for trying to get your wife out of there.”  
  
Once more, Oliver pressed his lips together. This time he gave a sharp nod—maybe it was acknowledgement, maybe it was thankfulness. Tak didn’t know and didn’t care. “Roy was in the subway with us. He kept Felicity company,” he explained and walked to a huge pillar spreading out across some rubble. “Help me with that.”  
  
Oliver and Roy as well as two other men digging in the rubble followed his order. Positioning along its length, they lifted and pulled (and Tak was pretty sure he strained something in his shoulder), but they managed to shift it out of the way—only to reveal more rubble.  
  
They all worked with determination. A frantic air surrounded Oliver. Every once in a while he stopped to call Felicity’s name—and each time he didn’t get an answer. Each time he went back to work with more urgency. After ten minutes he turned to Tak, who worked right next to him. “She asked me to leave.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Felicity, she asked me to leave—to protect…” his voice dropped to a dim mumble, “my secret.” He met Yongtak’s eyes. “I wouldn’t’ve left her alone otherwise.”  
  
“I know,” Yongtak said with emphasis. Because if there was one thing he believed, it was that Oliver would not abandon Felicity.  
  
Oliver jerked his head in something that resembled a nod. They continued working in silence for a few more minutes before Oliver asked in a hushed whisper, “How long’ve you known?”  
  
“Since our dinner. I know Fe. She doesn’t compliment anybody’s ass but her husband’s.”  
  
Oliver huffed, shaking his head, reaching for a chunk of concrete. “I told Felicity. But I thought Tina would’ve put two and two together.”  
  
“Well, my IQ is higher than Fe’s, so….” Tak said while experiencing something like an out-of-body moment: he noticed himself having a casual conversation and wondered where he found the strength, or distance, for teasing. It felt okay and inappropriate at the same time. He cleared his throat. “Your secret’s safe with me, though. You can trust me.”  
  
“Tak,” Oliver stopped his frantic pulling as a piece of metal, “I agreed to Felicity going into the subway with you. I knew you had each other’s lives in your hands.” Again, he fixed the other man’s eyes. “I trust you.”  
  
“I—” Yongtak started but was cut off by a desperate yell coming from behind him.  
  
“TINA!”  
  
Marcus Grant was running toward the leftovers of the RQM, his blue police uniform torn and dirty, his eyes wide and wild. Yongtak’s eyes snapped to Oliver, to see him shift his weight uneasily, swallowing in an uneasy gesture.  
  
“Is she in there?” Marcus asked, stopping next to Oliver who looked even paler than before as he gave a curt nod.  
  
“She and Felicity are both in there,” Tak clarified, sparing Oliver from having to say anything. “I think we’re nearly through. Come on.”  
  
Later Yongtak had to admit that it was mainly Oliver’s and Marcus’s achievement, but they cleared a path into the building in the next five minutes. The two men worked in silent determination until finally Marcus shouted. “There! Tina!” He squeezed himself through a hole. Oliver followed.  
  
Yongtak hesitated and was passed by a man in what looked like scrubs. Only then did Yongtak notice how many others were working with them, how many had joined them in the last hour. People in stained scrubs with the RQM-logo on their chests seemed to be everywhere. They had started treating wounded on the street. Another police man was there, too. Marcus’ partner. Yongtak remembered him from the one Little Firestormers game he had attended. Only then did Yongtak really take in the destruction around him, the other crashed buildings, the other people digging in the debris, the people crying, and he saw a body lying on the street. Somebody had put a jacket over the face and chest.  
  
Reality crashed back in on Yongtak and only when he struggled to force air into his lungs did he notice that he was crying, too. Big, fat tears rolled down his cheeks, dripped down his chin. Snort ran from his nose.  
  
Roy put his hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you move a little to the side so that we can make the whole bigger?” He added a little pressure. Tak turned to look at the kid but couldn’t really see him. “Hey, dude, don’t black out on me, okay?” Roy said. “Wanna sit down?”  
  
No. Yes. He didn’t know.  
  
Suddenly his boyfriend popped up in his head. Chris, his love-muffin with the freckles and the auburn hair. He needed to call Christopher and let him know he was okay. He fumbled with his pocket to get his phone out. His hands were shaking too much, his vision was blurred by tears. The phone fell onto a chunk of concrete. It landed on its back. _It should’ve broken_. The thought echoed through his mind as he stared at the ground.  
  
The male nurse who had rushed into the ruins slowly climbed back out. Another RQM-nurse hurried toward him, an emergency bag in hand. The man shook his head. “There’s nothing we can do. Tina—” His voice broke, he swallowed. “She’s dead.”  
  
“What?” his female colleague asked, not understanding.  
  
Yongtak didn’t understand either. Oliver had told him—kind of—but it couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. He shook harder. A sob escaped him.  
  
“Hey, hey,” the male nurse reached for his shoulders and made him sit down on the uneven ground before his legs could give in. “Take a deep breath, okay?” The man said in a soothing voice, “Breath with me.” He sent a quick glance to the still shocked, female nurse. “Is help from General here yet? We need to get a stretcher in there. Mrs. Queen’s ankle’s shattered and she’s in shock. Her husband’s with her.”  
  
That brought the woman back to the present. “I’ll contact SCG again. They need to hurry the fuck up.” She turned around. “How’s Tina’s boyfriend?”  
  
“Shock” was all the man said, turning back to Yongtak. “Just like you, huh?” His voice softened. “It’s okay. Just keep breathing. Everything’s gonna be fine.”  
  
No. It wouldn’t. How could it? But Yongtak Chan kept breathing. It was all he could do anyway.


End file.
